Poet: be gentle with yourself
never compare yourself to the coffee house across the street
the one that looks so lonely and wise with it’s brewing tales
and tea leaves
do not forget that you are a magician’s tarot cards, fate
holders and dream menders and plot twisters
poet: be gentle with yourself
you are a small wind hiding from the storm
but trust me your calm will come
remember that you are made of the stars and the universe
and that every atom inside of you is alive just like how
your words are
poet: be gentle with yourself
I know how it feels to hold back from writing
because you depreciate your own self worth
but trust me
the sun shines every day
just to catch a glimpse of you
and the moon cherishes your
fluttering eyelids the way I
cherish you.

I'm another
textbook
definition
of what
the kids
shouldn't
be.

(10w)
-Andrew Durst.

In an autumn leaf descending to the earth
Like a lazy parachute landing,  
I can see
A thousand little memories, etched imperfectly
Like overcrowded freckles in a smiling face, and
A thousand shades of every color, but grey and yellow
Most profound. And as it’s falling
Like a dying, man
On a bench in a teeming park
Filled with shocked, disbelieving faces trying
To hold back his departing life and
Funnily, even the most skilled rugby player cannot catch it.
His straining wrinkles like the shriveled leaf
Artfully shaped by that clever one
Reveals in its folds a million unique experiences
Reveries, hopes and memoirs all of which
Will be gone as the leaf softly lands.
But- new green leaves shall sprout, new hope reign,
Because, even when a prolonged year ends too soon,
There will follow another happy new year. And another.  
And another. That-
Is life.

There is something horrifically poetic
about lying beside him after the war.
Silent, the thick air surrounds us in a suffocating haze.
Not touching, I feel him breathing.
I feel him thinking.
We don't dare speak, as nothing more can be said.
Still in love, we must begin again
Together in separate rooms.
I hear him pacing there.
He comes back and settles behind me
And I feel him breathing on my neck.
A force that sustains him, like I never will.

mediocrity runs
the nearest
subway station

morbidity owns
the city's favorite
salad restaurant

cowardice floods
the sink of
every public restroom

fear flows out
of the sewer
down the street

these factors consume
my daily routine

today i realized that infinities are not about passion between lovers or promises of old but about the never ending truth that we will never belong to each other in all of the infinities and all of their never ending possibilities